


everything's made to be broken (i just want you to know who i am)

by gleesquid



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Discovery season 1 spoilers, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Fatherhood, Gen, M/M, Weddings, playing fast and loose with canon and science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 01:59:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17034288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gleesquid/pseuds/gleesquid
Summary: “You’ll never guess what Spock’s done.”Few good things had ever come from someone telling Sarek “You’ll never guess what Spock’s done.” In fact, he was certain that there was a 99.8532% chance that this sentence could only cause him great personal distress.Or: Spock is getting married. Tonight. And Sarek is going to be there whether he likes it or not.





	everything's made to be broken (i just want you to know who i am)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Faefyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faefyre/gifts).



> This is set in some not-so-distant future post-TOS and Disco.
> 
> Happy Yuletide!

Although surprise was not something that Sarek often admitted to feeling, he could not help the vague flutter of it when one Michael Burnham barged through the door of his bedroom. 

It was rather -- human languages lacked a certain level of nuance -- embarrassing, he supposed. To be caught laying in bed when it was nearly time for lunch, Amanda curled into his side. On most days and in most cases, he would certainly be out and about by this time of day. But it was his day off at the embassy and when he tried to remove himself from bed for meditation, Amanda wrapped an arm around him and whispered, “Stay, for a little while.” And he was wholly untrained at turning Amanda down. 

So, yes, there was something of embarrassment flitting through him and quite a bit of surprise when his daughter threw open the doors to his bedroom and marched in as if she did this every morning. 

Michael froze at the sight of Sarek in bed, Amanda’s head resting on his chest. She arched an eyebrow in such an impressive manner that it would have made him quite proud to see that eyebrow arched at perhaps anyone else. 

“Your mother was awake all night,” explained Sarek. “Humans require much more rest than Vulcans.” 

“So I recall,” said Michael. “Which we’ll just pretend explains your presence.” 

“I did not wish to wake her.” 

“The woman sleeps like a log. She’d be fine.” 

“You’ve been spending too much time around the humans if you are using their colloquialisms.” 

Michael huffed. Her hair was a little wild, piled atop her head. Curls were an extremely recessive gene on Vulcan. When Michael came to stay with him, he was certain to straighten her hair so that she would fit in. But ever since the Discovery, she had taken to wearing it curly, as it had been when they first found each other. 

“I didn’t come here to argue,” said Michael. “May we talk somewhere private?” 

If Amanda truly did, as Michael so eloquently put it, sleep like a log, then he saw no logical reason to remove himself. Except, of course, that Michael requested it of him. He carefully extracted himself from Amanda’s embrace and followed Michael into the living room. 

The airconditioning was already blasting and it bit at his skin. Most Vulcan homes did not come equipped with air conditioning, but Amanda was not equipped for the Vulcan heat and their home had to be modified. He staved off a shiver. 

“What is it you wish to tell me?” asked Sarek. “It must be urgent. I was unaware that you were scheduled to be anywhere near Vulcan.” 

“You’ll never guess what Spock’s done.” 

Few good things had ever come from someone telling Sarek “You’ll never guess what Spock’s done.” In fact, he was certain that there was a 99.8532% chance that this sentence could only cause him great personal distress. 

“While I like to believe I could guess what Spock has done were I given enough time to conduct my reasoning, I am certain no one really has that time. What has Spock done, Michael?” 

“You might want to sit down,” she said. 

Sarek sat, a strange sense of dread creeping up with every slight twitch of Michael’s forehead. 

“Michael,” he said. “Whatever Spock has done. Do not be afraid to tell me.” 

He could see Michael steeling herself, gaining control of her emotions. Sarek fought to do the same. There was something about Michael that always made him feel a little unhinged. Like anything could happen. Even the illogical. He felt wholly unprepared for his youngest son’s personal brand of strangeness.

“Spock’s engaged!” blurted Michael. And then pursed her lips, a fight against the emotionalism in her voice, Sarek assumed. 

He stared at her. “Engaged . . . in what?” 

Michael’s eyes turned deadpan. He supposed he deserved it. 

“So Spock is getting married,” he said. “Spock is . . . getting married.” 

Sarek listened to how the words sounded in the air. Strange. He had already been married twice, and yet he never had a child get married before. He always figured that Sybok, the most emotional of his children, would certainly marry, perhaps more than once. But then maybe it wasn’t so surprising that he never found the time. After all what so many humans forgot even as they complained that Vulcans could not feel love was that marriage required a certain practicality and level-headedness, something Sybok certainly didn’t possess. And then there was Michael, the most Vulcan of all his children. Strong. Unfeeling. Or so he thought. There was the boy -- man -- Klingon -- and he knew she felt something for him. But nothing could come of it, and now she seemed content in her friendships. And Spock . . . Spock, who would rather fly off into space than be with his betrothed. Sarek had told him, time and again, of the logical benefits of marriage, and yet he never listened, preferring his stars and his ship and his crew. 

And his captain.

Oh, no. 

“Who is Spock marrying?” Sarek asked. 

Michael grimaced. “He never exactly said.” 

“And yet you know.” 

“I believe I do.” 

“Who is it?” 

“I also believe  _ you  _ know, and therefore it’s redundant to even ask --,” 

“Michael.” 

Sarek tried to use his sternest voice. The kind of voice he would use when Spock and Michael used to sneak up on Sybok and pull his hair (he had been trying to grow it out; it was unfortunate). 

Michael took a deep breath and said with perfect, practiced calm: “He didn’t say who he was marrying. But given the evidence, I have come to the conclusion that Spock is engaged to Captain James Kirk, of the USS Enterprise.” 

Amanda was going to be incredibly smug or undeniably furious and Sarek feared, rather illogically, for his own well-being. 

 

“ _ Married _ ? He’s getting  _ married _ ?” 

Amanda hurried around the kitchen, her sleep robes flapping. She pulled out pots and pans from drawers and fiddled with the replicator and yet did not actually seem to be attempting to cook anything. 

“Yes, Mother,” said Michael, elbows resting on the countertop and chin resting in her hands. “For the third time, Spock -- your Spock, the boy you raised and clothed and who you thought respected you -- is getting married.” 

“I just can’t believe he’d do this! And not tell us! How can he get married without telling us!” 

“He told Michael,” Sarek pointed out.

“He told me,” Michael said. “Only because I called him for our monthly catch up and he kept avoiding my gaze and blushing. So then I asked why he was being such a little shit and he blurted out that he had news.” 

“Language,” Sarek chastised. 

“They’re just words, Sare, you of all people should know that,” said Amanda, moving to wash off some plomeeks. “Not even words in your language.” 

“As an ambassador to the Federation, I am well aware of the importance of words,” 

“Honey.” Amanda waved a plomeek at him. “Michael is not a little girl anymore. And our son is running off to get married without thinking to tell us. We have bigger fucking problems.” 

Sarek looked to Michael, who was attempting to suppress a smile. 

“I do not see what is funny about this situation,” he told her. 

“And that’s why I love you,” she told him. 

Sarek held Michael’s gaze for a moment before dropping his eyes. As children, Michael and Spock had often told their mother that they loved her. When Michael told him that he she loved him for the first time, he said, “I have assumed your affection for me and thus it is unnecessary to vocalize.” He could remember clearly the way Michael’s eyes seemed to cloud and how Amanda had put a hand on her shoulder to guide her to the kitchen for lunch, casting a long look back at him. 

He cleared his throat. “Where is Spock getting married?’ 

“Earth, I think,” said Michael. “San Francisco. I’m guessing Starfleet. You know how sentimental Spock can be.” 

Of course. Of course Spock would be getting married on Earth, of all places. It was illogical to think Spock did this to spite him, and yet. 

“And to  _ Captain Kirk _ !” said Amanda, abandoning the half-washed plomeeks to throw her hands in the air. “All those years of ‘please don’t imply anything unseemly about our relationship’ and ‘I feel the way for him any first officer would feel for his captain.’ My  _ ass _ . I may not have gone to fancy space school, but a mother knows.” 

“You were completely right,” said Sarek. 

“I was completely right! Exactly! The point of all this is that I was completely right.” She went back to scrubbing the plomeeks as Sarek caught Michael’s eye. Michael coughed. Amanda’s eyes shot up. “Are you making fun of me?” 

“I would never,” said Sarek. 

“Have you ever known Sarek to make fun of anyone?” asked Michael. 

Amanda looked back and forth between them. “No ganging up on me. We’re supposed to be ganging up on Spock.” 

“I am capable of completing a multitude of tasks at once,” said Sarek and he appreciated Michael’s grin. 

Amanda rolled her eyes, but she was smiling a little too. “Do Spock and James have a date yet, Michael?” 

It was a testament to the Vulcan attention to detail that Sarek could see the moment every muscle in Michael’s body tensed. 

“Well,” she said. 

“What is it?” asked Amanda, likely hearing the strain of Michael’s voice. “It’s soon, isn’t it? Oh, no, is it next month? That would be just like Spock to --,” 

“Tonight,” said Michael. “Spock told me that he’s getting married tonight.” 

A pin could have dropped and even dull human ears would hear it. For a moment, there was only silence.

“Fucking Spock!” Plomeeks flew everywhere. “I can’t fucking believe that he would go and get fucking married tonight and then not tell us! Does he not want us there? Does he hate us? Sarek I understand, but  _ me _ ?” 

Sarek could feel a dull pressure creeping up inside his head.

“I think it was a spur of the moment thing,” said Michael. “I’ve only met Kirk once but he always seemed . . . spontaneous. The kind of guy who would propose and then get married that same day.” 

“We cannot get to Earth by tonight,” said Sarek. “We will miss Spock’s wedding.” 

The words echoed in the kitchen. He felt hollow through the core of him. He had been so foolish and prideful that he was unable to guide Spock through his Pon Farr, he was unable to comfort him after the dissolution of his bond to T’Pring. And now he would miss his wedding ceremony. Perhaps Spock preferred it that way. Perhaps he didn’t matter to Spock at all. 

“The thing is,” said Michael slowly, “I might have a solution.” 

 

They stood out in the Vulcan heat, staring up at the hazy sky.

“It’s quite old by now, isn’t it?” said Amanda. “You’re taking care of it?” 

“We all are,” Michael said. “She’s a good ship.” 

“Was this trip approved by Starfleet?” asked Sarek. 

“More or less,” said Michael. “Three to beam up.” 

Sarek and Amanda exchanged glances as their bodies disintegrated. 

And then they were back in one piece aboard the transporter pad. Michael stepped smoothly off and Sarek and Amanda followed. 

“Well if it isn’t the ambassador!” crowed Paul Stamets, a cheshire cat grin on his face. Sarek had met Stamets a handful time and found him extremely odd, even for a human. “And the first lady. Ms. Grayson, might I say, you look ravishing.” 

Stamets bent low to kiss Amanda’s hand. Sarek could see a light flush along her cheekbones. Odd.

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” said Dr. Culber, guiding Stamets away from Amanda. “Please forgive my husband. He can be a bit . . . much.” 

“I resent that,” Stamets said. “I am the perfect amount.”

“Especially since we’ve got him back on his mushrooms.” 

The glance Sarek and Amanda exchanged was increasingly alarmed. 

“Thank you again for doing this,” Michael said. “I know it’s not exactly a pleasant experience.” 

Stamets put his hands on either side of Michael’s face. “I would do anything for you, Captain. I would die for you. Do you want me to die for you? I’ll do it right now if that’s what you want.” 

“Please don’t ask him to die for you,” said Dr. Culber.

“Yeah, we’ll hold off on the death,” Michael agreed. “Follow me.” 

Culber and Stamets followed Michael out of the transporter room and Sarek and Amanda trailed behind. 

“She’s so commanding,” whispered Amanda. “I always knew she’d be a good captain.”

“You always knew a lot, it seems.” 

Amanda knocked her shoulder against his. “My mother was a psychic.” 

Sarek’s lips twitched. “I know.” He glanced at her. “You seemed quite charmed by Mr. Stamets.” 

“Did I?”

“Your cheeks flushed a light pink when he kissed your hand.” 

“You must have been paying a great deal of attention to my cheeks to notice something like that.” 

“Anyone would have noticed.”

“Anyone didn’t.” 

He caught her eye. “Perhaps I was paying more attention than most.” 

Amanda grinned, making the admission almost worth it. 

They followed Michael down to a room deep within the ship, full of monitors that glowed blue and strange specimens in jars. At the center of the room was a kind of glass case. 

Sarek heard a familiar shriek and then Sylvia Tilly was throwing herself into his arms. He was not surprised, not really, since he knew Tilly the best of all of the old Discovery crew; she had become Michael’s best friend and when Michael came for dinner, Tilly frequently did as well. She always greeted him the same.

“I know you’re not a hugger,” Tilly said. “But I sure am.” 

“Ah,” Sarek said, awkwardly patting her on the back. He pretended to not notice the way Amanda beamed at him like he was a pet Sehlat who had done something cute. Pretended her smile, her adoration, didn’t thrill him to his core. 

Tilly pulled herself away to hug Amanda, who held her like she was precious. That was the way Amanda had held Spock when he was born, and Michael when Sarek brought her home. People might break, but never because of her. 

“I thought you had your own crew and ship!” said Amanda. “What are you doing here?” 

“Well, Michael needed someone familiar with the mushrooms we used to use to zip zap zop around and so she called me in! And you know how much I love Michael.” She froze. “Platonically! I love Michael in a platonic way so much! And so naturally I was happy to help Michael go to her brother’s wedding by abandoning my crew and lying to Starfleet. Platonic love can really . . . drive you to those things.” 

She cleared her throat and ran off to help Stamets.

“Been a while,” Stamets muttered as he was hooked up to a machine in the glass case. “Didn’t totally miss it.” 

“You’re a good friend,” Michael said. “But I don’t want you doing this if it’s going to distress you. It’s not too late to say no, without any repercussions. You have my word.” 

Stamets shook his head. “No, no, no, no. You’re doing this for love, Captain. That’s the noblest reason of all. I’d die for you, Captain, I would.” 

“I know,” said Michael softly. 

Culber, in the case, raked a hand through Stamets’ hair. “You’re a good man, Paul.” 

“I should hope so,” Stamets said. “You married me and I’ve always trusted your taste.”

Sarek glanced to the side to see Amanda watching them, the soft look she got when she thought no one was watching her. No one but Sarek. He reached out two fingers and lightly pressed them to Amanda’s. She jumped slightly and the looked at him, embarrassed to be caught but pleased too, he thought. Sarek could not do much well with regards to human relationships, but he could always watch when his beloved feared no one else would. 

Culber stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. Tilly began to rattle off technical jargon to lieutenants. 

“It feels a bit like we’re using that young man for our personal gain,” whispered Amanda. “He seems to have some sort of trauma related to the experience.” 

“And yet he seems as if he . . . wants to be used?” 

“Jesus,” said Amanda. 

“We are go in T-minus 3,” said Tilly. “2 . . .” 

The ship gave a violent lurch and Sarek’s whole body seemed to lurch with it, as if his muscles wanted to tear themselves apart, but they could not quite manage. He was being ripped into a thousand pieces and yet he had none of the relief of the tear. It hurt, he was in pain, he couldn’t get away. 

He reached for something, anything to act as an anchor, to make the pain go away, and in the darkness, he found Amanda’s hand. 

Just as suddenly as the jump began, it stopped. Sarek opened his eyes and met his wife’s, warm and kind and strong. She smiled at him in that easy way she always smiled. 

“I am grateful for you,” he told her because he could.

Her smile only grew. “That’s fantastic news.” 

“Now you know why Starfleet outlawed that shit,” said Tilly, unlocking the glass case.

Michael, Tilly, and Culber were working to get Stamets out of the machine. When he was free, Michael hugged him, quickly and fiercely. 

“Captain Burnham to the Bridge,” a voice rang out. 

She let go of Stamets, just as quick. 

“I’ll be right there,” she said and then turned on her heel, the perfect captain. The perfect Vulcan, almost. But not quite. 

As Culber helped Stamets out of the case, Amanda stepped up to meet them. 

“Thank you,” she said. “For doing this for us.” 

“It would have sucked if my mom couldn’t have made it to my wedding,” said Stamets. “Sock can just consider this some gay solidarity.” 

“It’s Spock,” said Amanda. 

“Him too,” agreed Stamets and allowed Culber to lead him out of the room. 

“Let’s get back to the transporter,” Tilly said. “We’ll be ready for Michael.” 

Sarek and Amanda left the room, walking briskly. As they passed a window, Amanda froze and Sarek turned to find his wife staring out at the green-blue marble of Earth, surrounded by vast blackness. 

“Do you miss it?” Sarek heard himself asking, as if he were listening from outside himself. It did not sound like the kind of question he would ask. He asked it anyway. 

“Sometimes,” said Amanda. “I miss the ocean mostly. And the cold, every once in a while. But I think I got a fair trade off.” 

“I fear that you did not,” Sarek said. “You gave your entire home and you got . . .” 

“You,” said Amanda. 

“Certainly a mismatched trade if there ever was one.” 

She smiled a little. “It’s not so bad. I got Michael, too, and Spock. And even Sybok. They kept me sane when you tried to drive me crazy.” 

“It was never my intention to inflict insanity upon you.” 

“I know, hon.” Amanda held out her fingers and he pressed his own to them. “You’re sentimental.” 

“I am no such thing.” 

“Is it the wedding? You’re remembering ours?” 

“Perhaps. And perhaps I am . . . afraid. That Spock did not want us to come after all.” 

_ Did not want me to come _ , he did not say. But Amanda looked into his eyes and she knew, as she always did. 

Her mother was a psychic after all. 

She placed a hand on the back of his neck. “Perhaps he did not. But we’ll never know unless we show up.” 

He touched his forehead to hers. “Spock and I. We did not speak for --,” 

“A long, long time. But that’s over now. And it’s time to show up for him in a way you haven’t for a long, long time.” 

Footsteps echoed in the hall. And then: 

“Did you guys get lost?” Tilly asked. “You were right behind -- Oh, sorry!” 

“Tilly,” said Amanda with a laugh. Sarek turned to see Tilly covering her eyes. “We were only talking. The view is beautiful.” 

Tilly peaked through her fingers. “It is, isn’t it? It makes me feel a bit romantic too. I’m sure I’d feel even more romantic if I had someone to be romantic with. I don’t. No one. ” 

“I’m sure,” said Amanda, patting Tilly on the shoulder. “Let’s go meet Michael.” 

 

Sarek, Amanda, Michael, Tilly, Stamets, and Culber beamed down to the Earth’s surface, right outside Starfleet academy. 

“Now we just need to find him,” said Michael. 

“If you were Sock, where would you get married?” asked Stamets. 

Michael frowned, thinking. “The gardens?” 

“That seems oddly public for Spock,” Amanda said. “I’m sure he’d appreciate somewhere more private.” 

“The observatory,” said Sarek. Amanda and Michael looked at him. “Spock loves the stars.” 

“He does love the stars,” Michael agreed. “It’s as good a place to have a wedding as any.” 

“Oh, I used to eat lunches in the observatory!” Tilly said. “Back before I had friends! Follow me.” 

Tilly led them across campus, uphill, to a beautiful marble building jutting up from the cliffs. 

“That sure was a long walk just to eat somewhere no one would see,” Tilly panted. “I should have gone to the library.” 

Michael pushed open the door to the observatory and walked into the vast, open room. The door creaked and rows of chairs full of people turned to look at them. An organ stopped playing. 

It seemed the wedding was already in progress. 

“Does anyone know a man named Sock?” asked Stamets. 

Up at the front of the rows of chairs, a man in a gold dress shirt beamed. 

“Sarek! Amanda! Other . . . people. You made it!” 

“It’s lovely to see you, Jim,” said Amanda. “We’re so sorry we’re late. You wouldn’t believe the traffic.” 

“Oh, it’s fine, please -- take a seat anywhere,” said Kirk. “Or, uh, Sulu, could you just --,” 

“It’s fine, we’ll stand,” Amanda said. 

“No, I insist. Sulu.” 

“Oh, uh, yeah, we’ll just move, I guess,” said Hikaru Sulu. “We’ll just make room for those random people who literally just walked through the door. Come on, Pavel.” 

“He didn’t ask me to move,” said Pavel. “I do not see why I should be punished for sitting next to you.” 

“It’s Spock’s parents, you guys, surely you remember Spock’s parents. Sarek is the Vulcan ambassador to the Federation!” 

The rows of people chorused greetings to various degrees of enthusiasm.

“Surely they cannot all be his parents,” Pavel muttered to Sulu as they did indeed move from the front row.

Sarek, Amanda, Michael, and their guests took hesitant seats. Jim Kirk was beaming at them. He could not seem to stop. 

“Right,” said Kirk. “This is fantastic. It’s so fantastic you made it. Truly. Wow.” 

“Jim,” said the man at Jim’s side, a man Sarek recalled as Dr. Mccoy. “Let’s get on with it, yeah?” 

“Yes! Of course. You can start up the music again! Please.” 

Amanda huffed a quiet laugh and Sarek somewhat understood her amusement. Jim Kirk was many things but he was never nervous. And now, he could hardly seem to contain himself in his own skin. 

He remembered how nervous he had been while marrying Amanda. No one could have known. His nerves had been expressed through stony silences. 

It’s possible Amanda has known.

The organ began to play. And then the observatory door opened and Spock walked out. 

He was dressed in traditional Vulcan clothing, the kind Sarek had doubted he even owned. There was nothing about Spock that was traditionally Vulcan, not even the way he dressed. But his robes billowed around him as he walked and Sarek began to feel something strange and misplaced within him. 

“He’s beautiful,” Amanda whispered. 

Spock’s shoulders seemed to stiffen and he glanced their way. His eyes met Sarek’s. His lips parted. 

Amanda wrapped a hand around his and on his other side, he felt Michael’s hand cover his own. And it was them and only them, their strength and their courage, the knowledge of what they sacrificed for the life he offered, that Sarek found the strength with himself to smile. Just a touch. The kind of smile only a Vulcan would recognize. The kind meant only for a Vulcan. Meant only for Spock.

And he thought, for the briefest of  moments, that perhaps Spock smiled back. 

 

The music swirled in time with the two couples on the dance floor. Jim and Winona Kirk twirled elaborately, a couple of showmen. Beside them, Spock and Amanda danced in perfect, practiced circles. 

Sarek sat at a table with Michael, alone. Tilly was by the refreshments and Culber and Stamets were chatting with the DJ. 

“Sybok would have loved this,” remarked Michael. “He loves a good wedding.”

“He loves chocolate and dancing.”

“How’d you manage to raise such a free spirit?”

“It was all his mother’s doing. He was too far gone by the time he got to me.” 

Michael smirked. “We’ll have to make sure he gets to the next one.”

Sarek raised an eyebrow.

“Not mine. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I fail to see why I am being ridiculous.” 

“Love and marriage. Not in my itinerary.”

“You have an itinerary? Perhaps you are more Vulcan than I thought.”

Michael rolled her eyes. Sarek fought the strange urge to smile.

The couple stopped dancing and everyone applauded as a new, upbeat song began in its place. Culber shouted his approval, dragging Stamets out onto the dancefloor. 

Sarek pursed his lips. “What song is this?” 

“It’s classical,” said Michael with a grin. “Whitney Houston. Still pretty popular in gay bars.” 

“I will never understand the human ritual of sanctioning specific alcohol for specific groups of people.” 

“Humans are very illogical,” said Michael. “So I’m told.”

The dance floor thrummed with energy. The guests appeared to mostly be the crew of the Enterprise and Sarek recognized their  faces: Uhura spun under Montgomery Scott’s arm; Chekov and Sulu slow danced; Rand and Chapel seemed to be serenading Dr. Mccoy; Culber and Stamets jumped up and down, without any sort of rhythm.  Spock looked vaguely disinterested and vaguely amused as Kirk sung the lyrics,  _ “I need a man who’ll take a chance on a love that burns hot enough to last --,”  _

Sarek watched Michael watch the dancing. There was a quiet solemnity on her face. 

“Are you thinking of him?” asked Sarek. “The klingon?” 

“Why would I be thinking of him?” asked Michael. 

“Because you loved him. And now he is gone.” 

“Thanks, Dad,” said Michael with a sigh. “I remember.” 

“But I am here,” said Sarek. “And I know I am not him, and that I have often not been what you needed, but I do love you, Michael. I do.” 

Michael’s eyes were glassy under the fairy lights. She smiled, a true and real smile. Not a Vulcan smile. Anyone could have seen it. Anyone could have known it. 

“The chocolate fondue is amazing!” said Tilly, throwing herself into an empty chair. “You guys have to try it -- oh, sorry, am I interrupting? Things seem very tense.” 

“It’s fine, Tilly,” said Michael.”You want to dance?” 

Tilly blinked. “With you?” 

“Yup. You know. Because we’re friends.” 

“Right. Absolutely. You and me. Are friends. And we’re going to dance to Whitney Houston together. Yes. Right. Yes!” 

Tilly bounded up from her seat and strode to the dance floor before she seemed to remember she was forgetting something. She turned on her heel, red hair flying, and grabbed Michael’s hand before marching her back to the dance floor. 

Sarek stood. He approached Stamets, who was dancing inappropriately close to his wife. 

“May I?” he asked. 

“Of course, my good sir!” said Stamets with a deep bow. “The lady is all yours.” 

Sarek drew Amanda into his arms. They began to spin. 

Amanda rested her head on Sarek’s shoulder. “Vulcan weddings don’t have dancing. Is it xenophobic to admit I prefer it the human way?” 

“I think I prefer it the human way as well.” He allowed his cheek to brush the top of her hair, only just. 

“Have you talked to Spock?” 

“We have not quite had the time.” 

She drew back to stare at him. “Hon.” 

“He has been rather busy!” Sarek protested. 

“Talk to him.” 

“I . . .” 

For once, he found words failing him. He wanted to talk to Spock. Of course he wanted to talk to Spock. He could not bear the thought of talking to Spock.

“I am not what he needs right now,” he said at last. 

Amanda placed her hand on his cheek. “What he needs is people who love him.” 

“I have only failed him. Time and again.” 

“You’ve been distancing yourself from your children your entire life just in case some imaginary perfect father more deserving of them showed up. But he didn’t. And he won’t. What they have is you. So talk to him.” 

She suddenly twirled out of his arms and into Jim Kirk’s. Sarek did not even realize they were dancing over to the wedded couple. His wife was more more cunning than anyone ever gave her credit for. 

As their spouses danced off, Sarek and Spock found themselves alone. The music was not Whitney Houston anymore. 

“What song is this?” Sarek asked. 

Spock listened. 

“I do not know,” he said. “All Earth music from the twentieth century sounds the same.” 

Sarek turned to him. “I think so as well.” 

“Mother and Michael would be very displeased to hear us say so.” 

“Vulcans do not lie.”

“So they must know it is true,” agreed Spock. 

Sarek cleared throat. And he held out his hand. 

The hand hung between them untethered. Sarek hated the sight of it. It made him seem weak. It made him  _ feel  _ weak. But still, he held it there. Let Spock see his weakness for what it was. 

But the hand had barely been there for 3.5 seconds before Spock took it.  And they began to dance. 

“I must tell you,” Spock began, “that when Jim suggested the wedding, I nearly said no.” 

Sarek arched an eyebrow. “Why would you do such a thing? I always gathered that you were enamored with the man even if I never quite saw how deeply.”

A light green colored Spock’s cheeks. As a child, he had always been an easy blusher. 

“I feared you would disapprove,” Spock admitted. 

“When have you ever cared what I think?” 

“For the sake of honesty, and because I have had more than a few chocolate covered strawberries tonight, I must admit that 77 percent of what I do is in direct relation to what you think about it.” 

Sarek considered this. “For the sake of honesty, and because I am beginning to wonder if Whitney Houston has the same effects on Vulcan phiseology as chocolate, I must admit that when I heard you were getting married, my greatest concern was that our relationship was in such disrepair that you would rather I not be here.” 

“Perhaps this morning you were correct,” said Spock. As they spun, they caught sight of Michael and Tilly shimmying together. Another round, and there was James and Amanda laughing. “But then you came.” 

“I came,” Sarek agreed, and he thought that perhaps they weren’t in such disrepair after all.


End file.
